Page 322 of Face Off

Briggs doesn’t look back when he speaks. “Who thought we’d ever be here?”

“Both of us.” I turn off the pasta water before it boils over. “We play mean hockey and made it our mission.”

His shoulders move with a breath that doesn’t become laughter. “I didn’t mean Milwaukee.”

Something inside me goes still.

Briggs turns from the window. Tears already fill his eyes. “I meant who thought we’d ever be the ones who left the people hurting us?”

His voice cracks on the final word.

I move toward him.

Briggs shakes his head immediately. “Don’t.”

I stop several feet away. “Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know.”

The tears spill over before he can turn his face. Briggs wipes them away hard enough to make the swelling beneath his eye flinch.

“I don’t know anything you haven’t told me,” I say.

“You know enough.”

“I know she hit you.”

His mouth twists. “She didn’t beat the shit out of me.”

“I didn’t say she did.”

“She threw a bottle.”

“She has hit you before.” It’s a statement not a question.

“Never like this.”

“That doesn’t make the other times disappear.”

Briggs drags both hands down his face. “Can we talk about you instead?”

“No.”

“You just left Charm for the second fucking time.”

“And I survived the flight. Today is yours.”

“I don’t want today.”

“I didn’t want mine either.” I reach for the mezcal and drink before handing it to him. He takes a swig and holds the bottle.

His breathing becomes unsteady. “You shouldn’t have to hold me up while you’re bleeding.”

“Yes, I should.”